And Through the Silent Night I Wait
by Sparkiebunny
Summary: Through the gently drifting snow, the stars shone brightly as if they knew something the world didn't. The air was cold and heavy, the sky a dark backdrop behind the pinpoints of light. "You were supposed to wait for me, Sammy."


**AN: I see Sam as around 14 in this, Dean 18. Sorry to be slightly depressing on Christmas haha, hope you enjoy anyway! Also, shout-out to Xenascully for getting on me about writing a new fic; thanks for the kick in the ass, girl. ;) **

_**Warning: Character Death.**_

* * *

Through the gently drifting snow, the stars shone brightly as if they knew something the world didn't. The air was cold and heavy, the sky a dark backdrop behind the pinpoints of light. Pushing firmly through the darkness, the stars cast a glow upon the blanketed earth as though to comfort it.

Far below, two figures crouched in the bushes.

"Remember," Dean whispered, eyes scanning the area from behind the snow-covered brush. "You don't move until I say. Wait for my signal."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I heard you the first seven hundred times."

"Don't be such a smart ass, shrimp."

"Don't be such a worry-wort, greaser."

Dean turned, brow furrowed in confusion. "Greaser?"

"Well I'm certainly not the one who dunks his head in hair gel every morning."

"It's called style, Sammy. You should get yourself some. And greaser, that's the best you can come up with?" Dean blew out a breath and shook his head. "That's pathetic."

"Shut up."

"Thought I'd taught you bet-"

"No, _shut up_," Sam hissed, eyes locked on a spot a few yards from the bush.

Dean whipped his head back to the space in the brush. Handing Sam the knife from his belt, he said with quiet force, "Ok, it's go time. Remember, wait-"

"-for you. Got it."

Dean grinned, ruffling Sam's hair.

Inching out from behind the bush, Dean pointed his gun at the creature in front of him, acutely aware of how the starlight glinted off its elongated claws. The two walked in tandem, keeping equal distance as they moved.

The creature lunged and Dean spun away lightly on his feet, only serving to further anger it.

With bared teeth, the monster took a step.

"Bring it, Fugly," he growled, pulling back the hammer.

Dean was ready, but hadn't taken into account the creature's tail-like limb, which had previously been coiled tightly. With deceptive swiftness, the creature whipped its limb out at Dean, catching him off guard and hitting him hard in the abdomen.

With a surprised _oomph_, Dean rolled a few times across the solid ground. His head swam, hand grappling uncoordinatedly for his weapon. The monster drew nearer, claws poised for the kill, and Dean was overwhelmed with the thought that he really hadn't been ready to die tonight. And he really didn't want to leave Sam alone. And more than anything, he wished he had a choice in the matter.

The creature drew its claws back, preparing to thrust them into Dean's flesh.

"DEAN!"

The elder Winchester's breath froze in the cold winter air as he watched a blur rush in front of him, and with the action came two concurrent sounds: an inhuman howl and a sickly gasp.

"NO!" Dean screamed without thought, agonizingly torn between reaching for a slowly falling Sammy and a snow-covered weapon. His heart thudded regretfully as his arm darted a few feet to the side, ripping the gun out of the snow and shooting blindly at the hunched creature.

Apparently injured by Sam's sudden attack, the monster receded into the bushes with a growl, licking its wounds. It was gone. For now.

But Dean still hadn't breathed, not since hearing Sam's yell followed by the sickly gasp which sent his world into a tailspin.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, falling sloppily into the snow beside his brother. His fingers ghosted over Sam's body, seeing the deep wounds and welling blood, but not touching. As if another moment's pause would make it all a dream. As if it'd disappear in the snow-filled air and Sam would be next to him with a lopsided grin.

"D'n." The sound was a whisper, a breath. Hardly there. But Dean heard, and it took no more than that to snap him out of his trance.

"You were supposed to wait for me, Sammy!" Dean cried, hands grasping wherever they could find purchase. His voice was sharp and rough, angry, but more than that, broken. Blood seeped sluggishly between his fingers, staining his hands and clothes.

Sam didn't respond, only took a few gasping breaths. "Damnit, why can't you ever just listen," Dean growled. Tears betrayed him, clouding his vision until he was forced to blink them out. They dropped like stones from his eyes and faded into the freshly fallen snow.

"M'sorry." Sam's eyes were glued to Dean's, desperately seeking something like forgiveness. "H-had to…"

"You _didn't_, Sam," Dean responded harshly, finally locking eyes with the younger Winchester. "That's my job, not yours. Ever."

Dean tore his eyes from Sam's once again, ravaging his mind for something that would make any of this okay. But looking at the blood staining the snow (and his hands, and his mind), he knew how hopeless the situation was. Yet he still could not bring himself to accept it, not this kind of failure, not _this_, leaving him at a devastating impasse, with nothing to hold onto but Sam's failing form.

"Dean." Dean could tell from his brother's voice that he knew, too. That they were at this impasse together, the last place Dean ever wanted them to be.

"Yeah," Dean responded roughly, all anger gone from him.

"D'n," Sam slurred. His fingers trembled as they sought out Dean's arm. After a moment, they dug into the worn leather weakly, forcing Dean's gaze to meet his.

And Dean began to realize that what he'd mistaken as a plea for forgiveness in Sam's eyes was a request for something else entirely. Something Dean didn't want to face, to consider. Something he didn't (ever) want to grant.

Permission.

"No, Sammy." His voice cracked. "No."

"S'okay," Sam breathed. "Jus' prom'se me you'll kill that thing, 'k?"

"Ok," Dean felt himself responding against his will.

Sam's chest rose and fell with careful control, the blood still trickling out of his wounds sluggishly. The snow fell into the saturated fabric and dissolved in red.

Dean held Sam close, feeling every forced breath, every faltering heartbeat.

"Dean." Dean looked down at Sam, passing over the pale face to settle on the mossy hazel eyes. The flicker of a smile passed across Sam's features. "Y're a jerk." _And I love you._

Dean's lips quirked brokenly. "Bitch," he breathed. _You, too. Always and forever. _

Soft flakes fell around the two for a few more minutes, fading into the white ground as Dean felt the beat beneath his fingers die away.

Clutching his brother's limp body to him, Dean saw the snow seeping through his clothes and knew it should be chilling him by now. But he couldn't feel anything but Sam's skin, cold and soft beneath his fingertips. His voice snaked out of his throat, full of pain and regret and a terrifying blankness.

"You were supposed to wait for me."

Soundless tears flowed from Dean's eyes with abandon, and the night remained silent. He began to rock back and forth slowly, breathing in Sam's scent, his memory, his being. He sat like that for a few minutes, just rocking back and forth, holding Sam against his chest, arms firm but gentle. The tears stopped after awhile. Dean's eyes were empty.

Quiet rustling sounded behind him, and he laid Sam carefully on the ground. Dean's hand lingered on his brother's chest for a moment, remembering (and longing for) the steady rise and fall, the pounding life beneath. Sam was cold beneath his fingertips.

"Wait for me, Sammy," he said quietly, running his fingers through Sam's hair. "Just a little longer."

The rustling stopped as the monster emerged from the trees. Dean turned to face it.

Dean looked tired as he saw it advance slowly. There was no anger, no rage. Just exhaustion. His dulled hazel eyes examined the creature's jerk forward, watching indifferently as its claws arched high and fast.

A single echoing gunshot resounded through the empty wood. It sounded sad, lonely, a feeble echo of their lives.

A flicker of pain flashed though Dean's eyes as the claws scraped his ribcage and buried themselves deep within. He took a small step back, allowing the dead creature to fall; its claws slid out with painful smoothness. Dean felt the blood stream down his torso, his abdomen. It soaked him within seconds, agony pulsing vibrantly before dulling. He was dizzy.

He stumbled slowly away from the body and collapsed to the ground. With painstaking slowness, he rolled over next to Sam, one leg bent up as his breath gurgled in and out of his mouth.

"I tol' you to wait f'r me, b'tch," Dean mumbled, turning his head toward his brother. He smiled, blood shining in his teeth. "You n'ver did lis'n very well."

Blood stained the pure white snow with scarlet, Sam and Dean's colors spreading from each of their bodies until the crimson patches touched and morphed as one.

Numbness spread across Dean's body inch by inch. After awhile, the flakes from the sky settled on his face without melting. He looked over at Sam's face and saw the same. The likeness was oddly comforting to him.

Dean breathed out shakily, hardly feeling his chest rise or fall. Hardly caring.

He closed his eyes, picturing Sam's smile in his head. His fingers tingled with the memory of ruffling the shaggy hair. And as much as he was devastated, he was equally grateful to have Sammy beside him, at least in part. In a way, they were together. It wasn't the kind of together he wanted, but it was better than being alone. Better than being apart.

The numbness was complete and Dean's eyes gazed widely at something in the stars, something undecipherable but mesmerizing. His leg straightened limply as he stared, his body falling still.

And he smiled a brilliant smile through the air, to the stars. It was breathtaking, his smile. Undecipherable. But mesmerizing.

His eyes connected and froze peacefully. "Thanks for waiting, Sammy," he softly breathed.

Through the silent night, the stars twinkled in response.


End file.
